


Putting In Effort

by sorbriquette



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Claude attempting to herd the cats that are the golden deer, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), F/F, Getting Together, Hilda putting in effort for Marianne, Hurt/Comfort, I think this is technically, Light Angst, Marianne getting a sense of self worth dammnit, Me trying and failing to write Lorenz like I don't despise him, Other GD mentioned but no point in tagging every damn chara in the game, because it's Marianne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26025883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorbriquette/pseuds/sorbriquette
Summary: After Marianne refuses to respond to Hilda's letters because she's 'cursed', Hilda takes it upon herself to find a way to talk to Marianne. With Fodlan at war and and overbearing brother to contend with, it take a little help from her friends and a whole lot of work.Basically my take on what happens in the time skip that helps Marianne's confidence in herself.--“I always thought you hated stable duty.”Hilda wet her lips for a moment, giving a laugh that felt somewhat forced. “I did,” she admitted. “I do,” a correction that was simply delaying the inevitable.“Did your brother make you come?” Marianne asked, still not looking at her, “I can try to do you work for you if you want, you always helped me in school. But I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”“I volunteered,” she confessed, seeing Marianne’s brow furrow even under fringe obscuring part of her face, “you-” Hilda took another deep breath that still did nothing to help, “you weren’t responding to my letters.”“Oh,” Marianne said quietly.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just a prologue, not much to see here, next chapter will be longer. Tragically still no Marianne next chapter though, just GD shenanigans.
> 
> Trying my best with the characterisation and the lore but theres a lot so if I mess anything up lemme know

It hadn’t been long after the battle for Garreg Mach that Hilda’s brother had all but dragged her home to Fodlan’s Locket. With the disappearances of the Professor and Rhea she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. 

The Golden Deer had gone their separate ways. She still wrote them, most of them at least, often. 

While the letters she always had to write her brother back at the monastery had been more a chore than anything, these were a lifeline. 

Fodlan’s Locket was boring. The whole war was boring. Not that she took part, none of the alliance did. But it was boring to watch. Boring and horrible. Tales of her former classmates found their way back to her. Faerghus torn asunder, imperials battles, people she once called friends caught in the middle, or perpetuating the whole thing. 

The neutrality of the alliance, unstable as it was, felt almost like a respite from it all. 

Her letters were easy to fill now. The mundanity of her days; complaining of her brother’s own complaints about her laziness, her breakfast that day, gossip amongst the servants. Simple things. Distractions. An excuse to talk to friends. 

She talked to Claude the most. Exchanging playful banter, information about his newest schemes, occasional troubling tales of his grandfather’s health. She’d even been to Deirdru once or twice. He’d visited her as well, but something about Fodlan’s Locket seemed to affect him, he was less spirited and seemed if anything more determined. He tried to hide it, but she’d known him long enough to see through it easily enough.

Ignatz took longer to respond to her. Possibly because his letters were often accompanied by paintings. He’d asked her to describe the mountain ranges once and she’d complied, it seemed another easy distraction to run away with. His next letter contained a landscape, the view from her bedroom window, just as she’d described it. Not quite the same as the real thing, but somehow better. 

Her next letter gushed with compliments of his work. He took even longer to respond to that, possibly because of the portrait of her he attached. More likely, she suspected, because of the dozens of draft letters he’d likely written before deciding which one to send. 

Raphael’s letters were always littered with spelling errors, and she spent more time deciphering his handwriting than was perhaps warranted. His letters gushed of his little sister, even the smallest things, a book she’d read, seemed to fill him with pride. It was kind of cute actually. Hilda sent along some jewellery she’d made with her next letter. The ones she received after were penned in a better hand, with less errors, containing thanks from Raph’s sister. No doubt she’d copied his portion of the letter verbatim, no amount of neat handwriting could quite prevent her from reading some of the sentences as if they had been written only in capitals. 

She even wrote Lorenz on occasion. Though letters to and from Gloucester territory were to be kept away from the prying eyes of her brother, who’s tirades about Lorenz’s father bowing to the empire were frequent and lengthy, not unlike the Noble’s letters. 

Lorenz was… enthusiastic with his letters. Sometimes it seemed she’d barely had time to read the last before she had another delivered. Certainly before she could send a reply. Every time Claude did anything, she’d get a letter. Every time the empire or Count Gloucester did anything she’d get a letter. Anytime a particularly small annoyance occurred in his life, she’d get a letter. Lorenz was tiring. His opinions detailed, unnecessarily so. Still she smiled each time she saw that purple wax seal, stamped carefully with a rose. 

Where Lorenz’s letters seemed to never end, Leonie’s seemed to never come. Her replies came slowly an were always brief. Hilda supposed that made sense. Leonie was busy. Despite not having land or title, she was somehow the busiest of all of them. She’d always worked tirelessly, and after becoming a mercenary as she’d always wanted, that seemed to go doubly so. She never said much of her work, somehow she still spoke more of Jeralt than herself. Short though her letters might have been, she never made Hilda think her own were unwanted. Sending along flowers or pretty stones and gems she’d found on her adventures that she thought Hilda might like, along with her ardent reassurances that she missed Hilda and hoped to see her again soon.

Lysithea was just as busy as Leonie, or at least, she claimed to be. She never missed an opportunity to remind Hilda about it, critiquing her more frivolous topics, pointing out she did not have time to discuss such things. But she always responded and she always discussed them anyway, along with, of course, her own topics of interest. Spells she’d learnt, books she’d read, sweets she’d tried. Only the most important of things. 

And of course, Marianne. 

Marianne who hadn’t responded to a single one of her letters, except the first. 

_Hilda,_

_Thank you for writing me._

_I shouldn’t write back, I’ll only bring you bad luck._

_Now we don’t have to see each other everyday, it would be better if you just forgot about me._

_This letter will be my last._

_I’m sorry,_

_Marianne._

While most of the letters from her fellow Golden Deer brought her joy this one only upset her. And yet, she kept it in her bedside table, in the top drawer. She’d read it more times than she could count.

Hilda was not one to put in effort. Especially when she got nothing in return. But Marianne had always been an exception to that. 

If she was slightly irritated by Lorenz’s torrent of letters, no doubt Marianne was twice as annoyed by her. She sent letters near weekly without even a single reply. She wasn’t even sure if Marianne was getting them, let alone reading them if she did. 

She’d asked the others, none of them had heard from her either. 

Claude, Hilda never really had to trick into doing work for her, more often she’d just ask him. This was one particular instance where she didn’t even need to ask. After questioning him about Marianne, apparently he’d corned Margrave Edmund after a round table conference to enquire about her health. 

She was well, apparently. Spending most of her time at the Edmund estate stables, hardly speaking to anyone. 

So Hilda kept sending letters. Asking Marianne about herself. Telling her about Hilda’s own day. Once requesting Ignatz paint one of her brothers newest horses so she could send that picture along to Marianne. She’d never received a reply from him so quickly. 

She never got one from Marianne at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly more substantial chaper, tragically with no Marianne still, but much other GD being their dumb selves.

Round table conferences were often boring. A bunch of people squabbling over minor things, usually contested lands or perceived slights. The war had altered things some. Arguments over the Alliance’s neutrality, or certain houses’ lack of, stationing of troops or questions of loyalty quickly descended into bickering or outright shouting matches. 

So somehow they’d gotten worse. 

Hilda would, however, subject herself to such things nowadays, to the delight of her brother. He probably wouldn’t be so delighted if he knew she only went in the hopes of seeing her former classmates, not because of any political interest. 

So she let him prattle on for their trip there, smiling and nodding and not really listening, as he pointed out the flaws of every other noble who would be present for perhaps the dozenth time over. About how they could fight back against the empire if the rest of the Lords hadn’t gotten so soft.

But it was worth it. 

There were hours before the round table conference yet, but no doubt her brother and Claude’s grandfather had to meet before hand and discuss matters privately. 

As it happened, he was waiting for them at the entrance to the city. He lent against a wall and toyed with an arrow as she’d seen him do in battle so many times. 

He gave her an easy smile as they approached, but could barely open his mouth to utter a greeting before Hilda barrelled into him with an ecstatic, “Claude!”

She felt him stumble back a few steps, even as he caught her in a hug. 

“Attacking on sight now are we?” He asked in a gasp, evidently she’d knocked the wind out of him, “where was that strength in training?”

“I could ask the same,” he brother interjected, though he seemed more amused than anything.

Hilda conjured her best ‘delicate flower’ voice, one both men were well acquainted with but only Claude was immune to. “Strength? No, you’ve just been getting weaker Claude.” she released him, pinching at one of his biceps, “Have you been slacking? Do I need to tell you how important hard work is?”

Claude batted away her hand in a gesture that garnered a dangerous flick of her brother’s eyes towards the movement. He pressed on nonetheless, “Lord Holst, my grandfather requests your presence. He’d have come to meet you himself but his illness is giving him more trouble than usual.”

“Will he be well enough for the conference?”

“He’d crawl out of his own grave just to make sure Count Gloucester doesn’t get his way. He’ll be there.” 

Claude spoke of his grandfather’s death so casually. Hilda knew he hardly knew the man, but that posed more questions than answers and Claude was never particularly forthcoming about himself.

Her brother laughed, no doubt sharing the sentiment. “Thank you, I’ll leave you to look after my sister then.”

Hilda might have baulked at that were she not still trying to act the part of the helpless maiden. 

“Or she’ll be looking after me, given the lecture on hard work she’s apparently prepared,” Claude sent her a wink and one of those devious smirks. 

She groaned, “Ugh, I can’t be bothered, let’s get some lunch.”

“How about we go straight for dessert? Lysithea got here a couple of days ago and she’s been scouring the cities bakeries for the best sweets she can find.”

The squeal that left Hilda had Claude clapping his hands over his ears in mock annoyance. 

“Oh, yes, lets go!” She grabbed his hand and began dragging him into the city.

They went a few blocks before she realised she didn’t actually know where we she was going. 

Claude took pity on her, though not without some relentless teasing (that she more than returned in kind) as they made their way to the aquatic capital’s biggest library. 

Honestly, she should have known. 

Lysithea was easy enough to find. Despite the library being massive and despite her being quite small, her bright white hair stuck out, as did the piles of books littered around her table.

“Lysithea,” Claude greeted with open arms, earning many glares and several shushes, “look who’s here, it’s Hilda, and she’s prepared us a seminar on the value of hard work.”

Lysithea looked up from a book that was bigger than her head and was old enough that Hilda could smell it even from across the table. “Oh really?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. The disbelieving, chastising lilt that Hilda had so often been on the receiving end of in school hadn’t changed a bit. For a moment it made her almost nostalgic.

“Who’d she trick into writing it for her?” Lysithea pressed on, “are you here to try and make me present it?”

“Aw, would you? That’s so sweet!” Hilda positively cooed at her, crossing the table and bending down to envelope her in a hug before she could respond. 

Lysithea sputtered for a moment, standing from her chair to try and shove Hilda away. “I am not some child you can manipulate with hugs and flattery.”

“How about a friend I’m happy to see?” Hilda asked pulling back some to give her a small smile. 

Lysithea, who was already a little pink with anger, flushed deeper, her glare intensifying for a moment before she pulled Hilda closer and buried her face in her shoulder. “It’s good to see you too,” followed quietly after. 

It was perhaps the only part of the conversation that hadn’t drawn angry hushes or glowers.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, if you don’t quieten down.” Hilda looked up to see a rather stern librarian glaring at them.

Though she released her, Hilda was still close enough to Lysithea to feel her hackles rise, ready to attack. 

Thankfully, Claude interjected before she could. “We’re going, we’re going,” he said in that relaxed air of his, turning a book over in hand from where he’d sat upon the desk, “just came to get a old friend so we cold take her for sweets, we’ll be out of your hair as soon as we put these back.” He held up the book in his hand giving it a quick twist to enunciate his point. 

The mention of sweets seemed to placate Lysithea some. 

Hilda left Lysithea and Claude to diligently put back the frankly ludicrous pile of books, claiming exhaustion from the long journey.

Though sweets made the afternoon bearable, the company she’d been so excited about seemed determined to disappoint her.

All they wanted to talk about was the war. Claude had more than a few opinions he shared. And many facts he kept to himself, no doubt. 

Lysithea was the same. Despite her house siding with the Empire, she was vehemently against them herself. 

Hilda had been surprised at first that Lysithea was talking to them at all. Lorenz was already in the capital as well apparently, yet he had apparently refused to see either her or Claude. Though the latter wasn’t unusual.

She understood why, Lorenz would never stray from what his father wanted, but she was still hurt. 

Lysithea she’d assumed was spending time with them despite her parents wishes because of her ever resolute opinions about her age and independence. Though Hilda knew she loved her family and worked so hard to benefit them, she doubted even they could prevent her from associating with whomever she pleased. 

And maybe that was true. 

But her hatred of the Empire ran deep. Deeper than Hilda had expected.

They went on for hours. Or what felt like hours to Hilda. 

Claude seemed to gather her disinterested eventually and changed the topic, “I supposed you haven’t heard from Marianne at all?”

If anything that soured her mood further, “Not a peep.” She gave a long drawn out sigh and stretched herself across the table, resting her head on her hands. 

Lysithea none too subtly pulled her pastry closer and away from Hilda. “I don’t see why you keep trying, she obviously doesn’t want to talk to us. It’s a waste of time.”

Hilda wanted to snap at her, or maybe reach across and snatch the pastry she was so carefully guarding. But Lysithea had always gone on the offencive when she thought she was being slighted, she’d probably tried to send letters of her own at first. So Hilda settled on lifting her head and glaring at Lysithea.

Claude’s hand fell onto Hilda’s shoulder, whether to comfort her or keep her from jumping across the table she wasn’t sure. “Always thinking she’s a burden our Marianne, probably thinks we’ll be cursed if touch a letter she wrote.”

“That’s stupid,” Lysithea said, short as ever, taking a large bite of her food, chocolate oozing out the sides. 

“I mean sure, we know that,” Claude says with an easy laugh, his hand tightening on Hilda’s shoulder, “we just need to convince her of that too.”

Lysithea snorts, “I’ve tried, it’s hopeless.”

“Lysithea, you have a great many talents, but the gentle coaxing Marianne requires isn’t one of them.”

“Are you calling me tactless, Claude?” Lysithea’s eyes narrowed at him.

He hummed in consideration for a moment before settling on, “your words not mine.” He gave Hilda’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, “tricking people into doing what she wants is Hilda’s speciality after all, best leave it to her.”

Hilda sat back up, dislodging his hand, “and what exactly am I supposed to trick her into?”

“Developing a sense of self worth?” he suggested. 

Hilda sighed again, looking down at her hands and picking at her intricately painted nails, “I’d have to trick her into talking to me first.” She gives another groan, exaggerated and weary, “and I don’t even know how I could do that.”

“We know what you’re doing, you know,” Lysithea told her, having somehow gotten another sweet while Hilda had been talking to Claude. 

“Maybe I over estimated your subtlety,” Claude teased, “but if it’s a scheme you want I can’t think of a more devious group.”

“I am not devious,” Lysithea protested.

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, “ with your brains, and my schemes, and Hilda’s manipulative prowess-”

“Manipulative?” She cut him off, “I’m not manipulative.”

“You are,” they responded in unison. 

Hilda’s jaw dropped in mock offence, “I’ve never been so insulted in my life-”

Claude took his own turn to cut her off, “Anyway, between the three of us, I’m sure we could come up with something.”

They spent the next few hours brainstorming and a fair amount of their respective fortunes on more pastries.

In the end they came up with nothing. Nothing they could all agree on anyway. 

Hilda thought perhaps she could sweet talk Margrave Edmund into letting her visit for a few days. Claude rightfully pointed out that her brother would throw a fit, either about her safety or neglecting the few duties she’d taken on. So she supposed that was off the table for now. 

Lysithea was in favour of what was not so much a plan as simply riding over to the Margrave’s estate and demanding entry. The topic of Hilda’s brother had been brought up again, along with Lysithea’s tactlessness and that if Claude did it, it would probably be taken as a threat designed to sway him to the anti-Imperial side of the fractured Alliance. 

Claude’s plan was infinitely complex and Hilda has stopped listening after step three, though she was pretty sure there was something in there about poisoning the Margrave to lure Marianne to Deirdru. She doubted Marianne would appreciate that kind of gesture, no matter how many times he assured them it would be non-lethal.

So they came up with nought, and eventually the time for the round table conference arrived. That was the condition on which Hilda had been allowed to come to the capital after all, her feigned interest in it all. 

So they made their way to the conference, out of ideas and full of pastries.

The Alliance's conferences weren’t the most secretive of affairs. Hence Hilda’s own presence at this one, and that of her friends. 

There were more chairs than usual. Not just for the Lords and their heirs (the ones that were attending at least), but for interested parties who wanted to put in their opinions or pleas. They didn’t get a vote of course, but they were still welcome to try and sway the members. All were of course vetted to ensure they weren’t Imperial or Kingdom spies.

Hilda sat between her brother and Claude, who’s grandfather was on his other side. 

Lysithea was across from them, between her parents. Lorenz and his father beside them. 

The conference has basically split itself into the pro and anti Imperial factions. Margrave Edmund with his own attache, and the various concerned merchants separated the two sides. 

She gave Lorenz a bright smile and a little wave across the table. More to see that scowl on his father’s face than anything. Lorenz himself ignored her until his father’s ire had settled and he’d turned back to Countess Ordelia. Then he gave her a small smile and a nod.

She saw Claude raise a hand and copy her wave, in her periphery. Lorenz’s smile dropped immediately and he went back to pointedly ignoring them. 

“And here I thought nobles were supposed to be polite,” Claude muttered to Hilda, just loud enough to be heard across the table. 

“You can’t even wait till the conference starts to begin antagonising them?” Hilda chastised him. 

The wink he sent her let her know he took it exactly as seriously as she meant it. 

Duke Riegan chose that moment to stand a hush falling over the room and stopping any retort Claude may have had. 

Now that Hilda saw him, he did look rather ill. 

He’d been ill near as long as she’d known him but it was really showing now. Dark bags under his eyes, the hesitancy of his every movement, the slump in his posture. Still he was the leader of the Alliance, and when he spoke the others fell silent. 

Even if not for long.

The proceedings were mostly dull, the Lords bickered back and forth, the merchants complained of how the war was affecting their trade routes, her brother nearly stormed out when the other members seemed unwilling to give additional support to Fodlan’s Locket. Something about Fodlan being war torn being the perfect time for the Almyrans to strike, which although not a bad point, had even Duke Riegan disagreeing with him. She wasn’t excited for the hour long rant about that particular betrayal on their trip home. 

Granted, it would be no more bearable than the speech he was currently giving to the table. 

“Regardless of what side of the conflict we are on, or if we end up in one at all, we need to be prepared,” he smacked his fist down onto the table to drive the point home. 

“If the Empire suspects we are rallying troops they will not hesitate to attack,” Count Ordelia argued with a dismissive wave of his hand, “we do not want them as an enemy.”

“They could attack regardless, and if they do it would be better to not be defenceless.” Her brother paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself, only a half an hour in and everyone was already riled up, this was either going to be a very long or a very short conference. “There are other ways to prepare than mobilising soldiers. We should prepared the commoners should something happen, evacuation plans, weapons for those who can fight.”

“The best way to protect the commoners is to placate the Empire,” Count Gloucester repeated what had become a mantra of sorts in recent months.

Her brother paid him no heed, “weapons production and increased training, rotate your soldiers through Fodlan’s Locket to disguise it as defence against our neighbours.”

“And your ulterior motive is revealed,” Countess Ordelia pointed out, with a tone of suspicion that she’d apparently passed to her daughter.

Claude gave a thoughtful hum beside her, “if we’re preparing for a war within Fodlan, we should probably try and smooth things over with out neighbours, not attack them.”

And it seemed that the Five Great Lords had resorted to tactics such as pretending they couldn’t hear each other because her brother only responded to Claude. “Letting up would only demonstrate our weakness, if we attempted to parlay they’d surely attack.”

Claude let out a sigh and tipped his head back as Hilda’s brother continued his tirade. 

“Margrave, surely you could breed more horses and prepare them for battle.”

Margrave Edmund looked up from his notes, apparently surprised that he was included in the list of people Lord Holst would speak to at the moment. “I couldn’t,” he said, though there was something less contrarian about his response than the others at the table. “I barely have enough staff to care for the horses I currently have.”

“Could you get more help?” Her brother pressed, never one to give up. 

“From where do you suggest I get help? You said it yourself, our soldier should be preparing for an attack, not tending to horses. Harvest season is approaching so the commoners don’t have anyone to spare. Besides, my horses aren’t bred for battle in the first place.” He was perhaps the calmest person in the room, not raising his voice, not hitting the table or looking to his peers for support. 

Her brother seemed to hesitate for a second. 

Hilda did not. She saw her opportunity and took it. 

“I’d be glad to help out, I do enjoy tending to the horses,” she said with her widest smile. 

She heard Claude suppress a snicker beside her, badly disguising it as a cough. 

She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Lorenz’s eyes so wide, “but you always complained about stable duty at school.”

Lysithea was sitting there with her arms crossed looking awfully smug, whether because she knew what Hilda was doing or because she thought she’d finally gotten through to Hilda wasn’t clear. “Only because she was always assigned to it, because she was so good at it.” 

“Arguably the best,” Claude concurred, apparently having gotten a hold of himself, “such a diligent worker our Hilda.”

If anything Lorenz looked more confused, his usual need to argue with Claude seemed to be stayed by Lysithea being on their side. 

“Hilda, I think it’s better if you stay at home,” her brother said, though when she looked at him, there was a glint of something akin to pride in his eye. 

Great. Now she’d set expectations. 

He was going to become unbearable after this.

“At Fodlan’s Locket? I’m a delicate flower, I’m no use in battle,” she followed the well used script, “I’d be much better off caring for the horses, safer too.”

That seemed to convince him some, or at least make him pause.

But he wasn’t the only person she had to convince. 

“I will not turn away help,” the Margrave said slowly, “though the help of one person can only make so much of a difference.”

No matter how many lectures he gave her about responsibility and work, Holst adored Hilda, and no doubt wanted to encourage this. “If you lend me some of your guard to train in The Locket, I’m sure I could send some of my own to help you. They’ll not be particularly skilled but I’m sure they could still help some. It would allow me to train some of your soldiers without leaving you defenceless.”

And doubtless to keep Hilda safe too. But she wasn’t about to start objecting now. 

Margrave Edmund took a few moments to deliberate and Hilda was not the only one in the room who waited with baited breathe. He was the only one of them who hadn’t taken a side in the conflict, if he would cooperate with house Goneril, that was quite the boost to their side.

“I suppose that would be beneficial to the both of us,” he gave a nod, “I agree to your terms.”

And he jotted something down in his notes.

For his part, Count Gloucester looked as if he were about to snap his on quill he was holding it that tightly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter sooner than I planned because I neglected all my uni work and wrote 4k yesterday. Whoops.
> 
> Also this got angstier than I intended, but what else can we expect from Marianne? Who has FINALLY made an appearance. Sorry for the wait.
> 
> Was gonna have a farewell and "teasing Hilda" session by the other GD but that got a bit forgotten in favour of getting to the good shit. Might add it in later.

Though she was more than excited to finally be able to see Marianne, travelling all the way back to Fodlan’s Locket before she could head to Margrave Edmund’s estate put a damper on things some. 

Of course, House Goneril’s own military force couldn’t leave until The Margrave’s arrived. They couldn’t leave Fodlan’s Locket so defenceless after all.

They couldn’t leave The Margrave defenceless either though, so apparently more would be arriving after her own journey.

There was also the matter of her own things.

She had needed to get more clothes. Her brother insisted she’d over packed for the trip to Derdriu but it was still not near enough for a longer stay. 

She’d need her accessory making equipment. The stationary she used to write letter, all several dozen pieces of it, had to come too. Of course she’d also need all her makeup and more than the measly two different perfumes she’d taken on the last trip.

She’d only managed to spare herself her dear brother’s lecture by proclaiming how much she’d miss him the second he tried to open his mouth. And he melted. Piece of cake. 

It didn’t matter though, it wasn’t like she was going alone. It was easy to convince a few of the soldiers to take her more heavy bags for her. And also her lighter ones. 

And of course, it wasn’t only her own things she was bringing.

Lysithea, despite her frustrations with Marianne, had sent along some of her favourite sweets. She’d been very stern when insisting that Hilda not eat them. Still, Hilda was sure Marianne would share them with her anyway. 

It was a little shocking that Lysithea of all people would catalyse all the gifts Hilda was loaded up with now. 

Lorenz had given her some lavender tea to pass along, along with some samples of other types. Apparently he wanted to expand Marianne’s pallet.

Claude had bought a stuffed horse. A chubby little blue thing that Hilda thought was absolutely adorable. 

Of course, once Claude got a gift, Lorenz had to get another, better, gift. He’d tried to get Hilda to take some roses with her. But of course she had to travel home first and by the time she’d finally get to Marianne, they’d not doubt be wilted. 

And of course Marianne preferred those lovely white lilies that looked like little bells.

Still, Hilda had no doubt a rather large delivery of roses had probably made its way to the Edmund estate sometime in the past weeks. 

Hilda has not gotten Marianne a gift. She almost felt bad about it, but she’d hardly had the time since leaving the capital. She was sure she could remedy that once she actually saw Marianne though. 

Her excitement was gathering again as they drew nearer to Edmund territory. Their speed increased too. 

While her own home was mountainous, it was more pastures and gentle hills here. Probably better for livestock, it made sense that the Margrave had horses. Probably. Despite her assurances to the round table and Margrave Edmund himself, Hilda was not all that well versed in horse care. She was mostly counting on Marianne to explain to her the ins and outs.

Still, as their own pace increased with the flatter terrain, her own horse seemed to fair better. It would only be a few hours now.

But even a few hours felt like far too many.

Given who she was (given who her brother was), it was not surprising that Margrave Edmund met her personally upon her arrival. 

The estate was rather large, Hilda was near certain the house had more rooms than she could ever be bothered to count. She wondered momentarily whether the house Goneril guards would be staying there as well. She never got an answer though. What remained of House Edmund’s own staff came to direct them while The Margrave escorted her away. 

She knew Margrave Edmund was not Marianne’s actual father, but still, the differences between them were striking. It wasn’t just his darker hair or shorter stature though, his whole bearing was different. Chin held high, straight backed and looking Hilda in the eye. Not to mention his own oration skills, that Hilda had more heard rumoured than actually seen given how she spent the few round table meetings she attended exchanging whispers with Claude.

“Lady Goneril, I hope you had a safe journey,” he said with a smile as he gestured for two servants to take her bags. 

He gestured for more when her luggage pile was added to by the lovely men she’d gotten to take her extra bags. She’d fawned over them on the journey but she made a note to give more thanks later.

“Oh yeah, completely uneventful, a bit boring but hey, the landscape was pretty at least,” she said giving him her widest smile. 

“Ah, I’m glad you liked it. Though it’s been many years since I was last in Fodlan’s Locket, I know the greenery here doesn’t quite compare.”

She gave a shrug, “it’s less lovely when you see it everyday. This place is nice, there’s so many flowers I’ve never even see before.”

She was being truthful, though it’s proximity to Almyra rendered her home lush and vibrant, after a while she’d become used to it. Granted, it was not the scenery here that excited her though. 

“You flatter me.”

“I’m trying,” Hilda responded with the same tone that had always worked wonders on her peers. 

He took the lead in the conversation as he showed her around. So very different from Marianne. 

As pretty as his home was and as good a conversationalist as he himself was, Hilda found she’d never been quite so impatient to get to work. 

“I was surprised when you volunteered to help out,” he admitted, leading her down yet another seemingly endless hallway. 

“Oh yeah?”

He gave her a sidelong glance, “Indeed, you have something of a reputation.”

She wondered who had ratted her out. It was unlikely to be Marianne, Hilda doubted she spoke to her adoptive father any more than anyone else. Claude perhaps had said something about her in jest, or maybe Holst had complained about her at a round table meeting.

“Someone’s spreading rumours about me? How mean,” she attempted to play it off with a pout.

He did not seem to buy it. “While I appreciate you attempting to help my daughter, you have made a commitment here that I expect you to honour.”

Daughter. He didn’t use the adoptive descriptor Marianne always did when speaking of him. 

“You can count on me,” Hilda said, mustering all of her so called ‘manipulative prowess’ and attempting to mimic the apparently tireless Leonie.

For a moment he looked like he might comment, eyes narrowing slightly, instead he simply said, “thank you.” And stopped, opening a door, “this will be your room, please don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“Aw thank you so much.” She slipped past him into the room. It was smaller than her room at home but larger than the one she’d had at Garreg Mach. “It’s so cute.”

Her own home was built more like a fortress than anything, small windows just large enough to fire arrows from, concrete floors that gave her an excuse to buy plush rugs, and vaulted ceilings that always made her feel extra short.

This was cosy. And it was cute. 

A large window adorned one wall, looking out to the mountains and spilling sunlight across wooden floorboards. A large bed took up much of the space, it was covered in more pillows than she’d ever need and looked like she’d fall into the softness of it, never to be seen again, the second she laid down. 

There was a desk too, not a terribly large one, but that didn’t matter, she had no intention of doing any studying now that she’d finished school. 

A large dresser stood in the corner with a standing mirror beside it that she was absolutely going to make good use of. 

It wasn’t as adorned as her own room, but she could fix that easily enough. She did enjoy decorating, even if she didn’t like cleaning. 

“I’m glad you like it,” the Margrave said, still in the doorway, “you’ve had quite the long journey so obviously I don’t expect you to start working till tomorrow.”

For the first time in perhaps her entire life she wilted at the idea of not having to work. 

“You’re welcome to dine with me if you wish,” he continued, “but my daughter prefers not to, so if you’d rather take your meal with her I will not be offended.”

The smile Hilda offered up now was less exaggerated, more genuine, “thank you.”

He gave her a smile in return, and a nod, before he walked away. 

Her luggage had been dropped off already, she really should start to unpack. She couldn’t be bothered though, particularly when there were more pressing things to do. 

The estate seemed smaller when she wasn’t being shown around it, the hallways less endless and easier to navigate. She found her way outside easily enough. 

The soldiers had dispersed. She wasn’t sure to where and right now she didn’t really care. 

She made a beeline to the stables. To Marianne. 

The Margrave had not taken her there on his tour of the estate, but he had pointed it out before they’d gone inside. It was quite far from the main house after all. Well, quite far for Hilda’s standards, a few minutes walk. Were she a less lazy person she might have run. She was considering it anyway. 

Still, as eager as she was to see Marianne, she didn’t want to be soaked in sweat the first time they saw each other again.

Did she even want to see Marianne again?

The result to that was a resounding yes. Yet her stomach still dropped and she almost turned back. 

This whole trip, her whole plan, she’d been so focused on just getting to see Marianne.

She hadn’t considered whether or not Marianne wanted to see her. 

Maybe Lysithea was right. 

Maybe Marianne would simply want nothing more to do with them. 

She stopped at the entrance to the stables. Hesitating for the first time in all of this. 

What if she was wrong?

“Oh, your manes a bit matted, that must hurt, let me fix it,” floated gently out from inside the stables.

Hilda’s chest felt tight, more so than usual considering the clothes she wore. 

She took a deep breath that did little to settle her stomach or calm her nerves as she stepped inside. 

It was a few stalls before she found Marianne. 

She was facing away from Hilda, brushing a tall white horse an cooing to it gently.

Hilda was unsure what to do. She could embrace her, like with Claude or Lysithea, but that felt like too much. It might scare Marianne. There was also the new, nagging doubt in her head telling her Marianne might reject a hug. 

This new hesitancy was foreign to her. She’d always managed things so easily. A bright smile and honeyed words, as many compliments as she could give someone. 

She felt lost right now.

She didn’t know what to do.

But she’d try. She always tried when it came to Marianne.

“Hey,” she said softly, staring at her shoes for a moment before realising exactly how much like the other girl she was behaving in that moment. 

Was this how Marianne felt all the time?

Marianne turned quickly, obviously startled, tripping over her skirts in the process. 

Always so clumsy. 

And Hilda was always happy to make up for it. 

Marianne fell forwards towards her, it was only a couple of paces before Hilda caught her against her chest.

She supposed in a roundabout sort of way she’d ended up embracing Marianne after all. 

“Hilda?” Marianne said as Hilda set her upright. “I-,” she hesitated looking away again, to the ground like she always did. “Thank you.”

Hilda’s hands were still resting on Marianne’s shoulders. She looked much the same as Hilda remembered her, maybe she was a little taller, but still the same Marianne Hilda remembered. 

And Hilda didn’t know what to say for once. 

Marianne looked up eventually, dark eyes meeting Hilda’s own, “what are you doing here?”

Hilda pulled her hands away, forcing them back to her sides as she attempted a smile. “I’m here to help tend the horses.”

Marianne looked surprised for a moment, lips parting ever so slightly as her mouth fell open. “I heard house Goneril was sending people, but I didn’t know you-” She stopped, letting out one of those uncertain quiet sighs of hers as her gaze went back to the floor. 

There was silence between them for a few moments, uncharacteristic of Hilda. Marianne somehow ended up being the one who broke it. 

“I always thought you hated stable duty.”

Hilda wet her lips for a moment, giving a laugh that felt somewhat forced. “I did,” she admitted. “I do,” a correction that was simply delaying the inevitable. 

“Did your brother make you come?” Marianne asked, still not looking at her, “I can try to do you work for you if you want, you always helped me in school. But I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

“I volunteered,” she confessed, seeing Marianne’s brow furrow even under fringe obscuring part of her face, “you-” Hilda took another deep breath that still did nothing to help, “you weren’t responding to my letters.”

“Oh,” Marianne said quietly. 

Hilda’s heart sank, maybe Lysithea had been right, maybe Marianne wanted nothing to do with them. Wanted nothing to do with Hilda. 

“I’m very sorry Hilda,” Marianne pressed on as Hilda waited for the killing blow from the Golden Deer’s healer of all people. “I’ll do the work for you, I promise. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“Worried?” Hilda asked, for once just as quiet, “I wasn’t worried, I just missed you.” She hadn’t meant it to come out quite so desperate, like it was some kind of plea. Hilda didn’t plead with people. But what was all this if not a plea.

And well maybe she had been a little worried. But she didn’t want Marianne to fret over that.

“I see,” Marianne her head somehow managing to tilt down eve more. Hilda wanted to tilt it back up. To give Marianne some of the pride she so clearly deserved. Or maybe Hilda just wanted to see her face. 

“I’m sorry,” Marianne said again, “I wanted to write back I just-”

“Didn’t want to give me bad luck?” Hilda supplied. 

Marianne nodded, wringing her hands together. “I missed you too,” she confessed quietly, “your letters, they always made me so happy.”

“It would have made me happy too, if you’d sent any to me.” It came out more bitter than Hilda intended. She didn’t like the way bitterness sounded in her voice. She didn’t like the guilt it would probably give Marianne. 

Marianne looked up then, just enough that Hilda could see her eyes as she shook her head, “No, it would only have brought you trouble. I will only ever bring you trouble.”

And maybe it was that she could finally see Marianne’s eyes. Or because she didn’t know whether she wanted to scream at Marianne, or burst into tears, but Hilda went back to her first instinct and stepped towards Marianne, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“It would have made me happy,” she said quietly into Marianne’s shoulder. 

_You make me happy_ , she didn’t say, because she felt a lot of things right now but happiness was not one of them. 

Marianne tensed in her embrace for a moment, “Hilda, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then hug me,” she said and this time it was unmistakably a plea. 

“I’m sorry,” Marianne said quietly again, even as her hands came up to tentatively rest against Hilda’s back.

Hilda had no intention of letting go and slowly Marianne seemed to relax, resting her head on top of Hilda’s.

And there it was. She’d made Hilda happy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, this took longer than intended. Sorry Marianne is just so damn angsty it can be difficult to write.

Hilda wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. How long she stood in the stables just hugging Marianne. 

She’d never liked the smell of stables. Horse poop and hay. The air there felt somehow unclean and Hilda always took an extra long bath after she’d been on stable duty. 

But Marianne smelled nice. 

Not perfume nice, more like some kind of floral shampoo. And admittedly a bit like horse, but Hilda didn’t mind it so much on her. 

So Hilda thought perhaps she’d be content to simply stay like this forever. 

She felt Marianne stumble into her some and had she not been so use to Marianne’s clumsiness she might’ve fallen over herself. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was brushing you wasn’t I?” Marianne stepped back from Hilda and turned to the horse who’d nudged her, scooping up the brush she’d abandoned on the floor. “You can’t get those knots out on your own.”

Hilda glared at the horse over Marianne’s shoulder. 

“Albany, this is Hilda, she’s going to help me take care of you.”

Hilda felt her glare and her mood soften some as Marianne introduced her to the horse with a serene kind of smile on her face.

“Yeah, about that” Hilda said slowly, her usual demeanour recovering some now that their reunion seemed to be over, “I don’t know anything about horse care.”

“I know,” Marianne gave her a small smile, holding the brush out, “I’ll help you.”

Hilda wanted to protest, to say that Margrave Edmund had said she didn’t have to start till tomorrow.

But Marianne’s smile was gentle and rare, so she found herself taking the brush. 

“Thanks,” she said without her usual doting because it was she who was going to be doing the work here. Even if she did want to dote on Marianne some. 

“This is Albany,” Marianne ran her hand down the horse’s long nose as she spoke, “he’s sweet really, if a bit needy. Please be gentle with him.”

Gingerly Hilda stepped forward and raised the brush to the horse’s mane. She was gentle, carefully holding the horse’s mane near the root as she brushed out the tangles, she had enough hair of her own that she was well versed in this at least. 

Marianne was quiet as she pet the horse, keeping an eye on Hilda. 

Hilda herself was quiet, the feeling of not being quite sure what to say steadily returning. Marianne didn’t seem to mind though. 

Needy as he was, Albany was dealt with quickly enough. Marianne introduced her to the rest of the horses, dubbing a couple more in need of brushing and teaching Hilda how to refill one of the water troughs.

The sun was setting and Hilda was starting to feel more than a little tired. Maybe the Margrave was right and she should have spent the day resting and settling in. 

And she was hungry. Usually she’d just whine about it until someone got her some food, but she wouldn’t do that to Marianne. 

At least not intentionally. 

Her stomach let out a loud grumble and Marianne looked up from the horse she was lovingly stroking. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve kept you too long.”

“Don’t sweat it, I needed to learn how to look after the horses anyway,” Hilda dismissed the apology with a wave of her hand, “so thanks!” She clapped her hands together and turned back towards the exit to the stables, “though I am hungry, so lets go get something to eat.”

“My adoptive father will be eating soon, you should have dinner with him, he’ll be better company,” Marianne said, quietly, but still loud enough for Hilda to hear.

Hilda turned back to face her, Marianne was looking at the ground again, hands folded in front of her. She’d always had a way of tugging at Hilda’s heart strings and apparently that had changed about as much as Marianne had. 

Still she put on her best smile, “nah, I’d rather eat with you, it’s been so long, we have so much to catch up on.”

It appeared to have the opposite effect, Marianne shrunk smaller and clasped her hands together tighter, “I’m sorry I didn’t write.”

Hilda sighed and stepped closer to her, reaching out draw Marianne’s hands from their white knuckled grip on each other. “I don’t want you to apologise, I just want you to have dinner with me.”

She gave Marianne’s hand a gentle tug towards her as she looked up to meet Hilda’s gaze.

“I-” Marianne stopped what Hilda was sure was another apology, “okay. Lets go.”

Hilda was tired so dinner was a quiet affair, Marianne confessed she preferred eating in her room. They were already half way through their meal at that point though, so there was no reason to move now. 

“We can eat there tomorrow night then,” Hilda said with a smile, hoping her sheer cheeriness could get them past what was definitely overstepping boundaries. 

“I’d like that,” Marianne gave her smile to her salad, but Hilda would take her victories where she could get them.   
  
  


One of the many requirements of being lazy, aside from avoiding work, was despising getting up in the mornings. 

And Hilda had to get up earlier than usual to feed the horses. 

And she had to get up even earlier than that to make sure she could get her makeup done.

So she was more than a little grouchy as she made her trek over to the stables. She grew even more grouchy when her heels sunk into the mud. Apparently it had rained last night. 

She wasn’t the first one there, in fact, she might’ve been a little late. But she was certainly the cutest one there and that had to count for something. 

The usual stable hands looked her up and down with apprehension but no one said anything. They simply told her which horses were hers to feed and refill the water for that morning. 

It wasn’t a terribly difficult task. Hay bales were no harder to throw around than an axe, even if the loose straw did jab at her and she was pretty sure a bug crawled across her hand when she picked up one of them. Next time she’d be wearing gloves and long sleeves. 

And the water was easy enough to refill too, Marianne had shown her last night after all. 

It wasn’t the hardest work she’d ever done, but it took a while. And she was pretty sure Albany hated her because he would not move away from his feeding trough despite all the hay in her arms. 

“Come on, move,” she whined at the large horse, “I’m hungry too.”

Because of course the horses were to be fed before her.

She heard a small giggle from behind her.

“Marianne, make him move,” she pouted, wondering if she could glare the horse into moving. Instead Albany just leaned forward and started eating the hay out of her arms.

Still giggling, Marianne moved past her and slowly coaxed Albany away from Hilda and his feeding trough.

“Thanks.” She dumped the hay down and brushed the front of her shirt to get rid of all the bits sticking to her. “Even if you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m sorry Hilda,” Marianne stifled more laughter as she apologised, “it’s just-” she hesitated, a hand coming up to cover her mouth.

Hilda’s hands went to her hips and her pout intensified, “it’s just what?”

“I’ve never seen you such a mess,” Marianne confessed. 

Hilda looked down at herself, her carefully crafted outfit was covered in hay and whatever the dusty residue it left was. Her lovely shoes were now brown and caked in mud. She was covered in sweat and no doubt even her perfume wouldn’t cover that smell, not to mention her make up was probably running and making her look like some kind of creepy clown.

As if determined to make matters worse, Marianne stepped closer to her and reached out a hand, drawing a strand of hay from Hilda’s hair. 

Hilda’s face grew somehow warmer. 

But Marianne was still giggling and it was unbearably sweet. So Hilda found herself smiling despite it all. 

“I’m glad you find my suffering so funny,” she said in mock annoyance. “How do you stay so…” Hilda gestured to all of Marianne, her pristine outfit and careful updo. 

“Clean?” Marianne asked gathering her skirts and lifting them slightly to reveal leather riding boots that were as covered in mud as Hilda’s shoes. “I don’t.”

“I meant cute,” Hilda argued, “your hair isn’t full of hay.”

That stopped the giggles, Marianne flushing delightfully for a moment. “I can’t carry as much as you,” she said quietly, “and you still look cute, Hilda.”

And then Hilda was blushing, if she could blush any more than she already was.

She wanted to argue, being covered in mud and sweat was not cute, at least, not on her. But she wasn’t sure she could speak not even if she wanted to. 

She walked back out of the stall, there were three more horses to feed after all. 

Marianne followed, apparently not needing to be asked for help. 

Things went faster when it was the two of them. Though the hunger pangs in Hilda’s stomach were less noticeable now and the work was somehow less arduous with Marianne reaching over to tug hay from Hilda’s pigtails every now and then. 

Despite it being faster, she was still the last one done and the sun had more than come up by the time the girls were making their way back for the breakfast Hilda had so patiently waited for. 

But she’d have to wait a little longer. 

“I need to get changed,” she announced.

She needed a bath too but she’d have to do all this again at dusk, not to mention all the brushing and horse shoe checking and all the other things horses were too dumb to do themselves that she’d have to do after breakfast.

“Okay,” Marianne said quietly as ever. Even if it had been at her, Hilda missed her laughter. 

“I know you like to eat in your room, but can we eat in mine this morning?”

“Eat in your room?” Marianne’s eyes widened some.

Hilda nodded, “Like you so kindly pointed out, I look like a mess, I need to fix that,” she said though it lacked any actual upset, “so can we eat in my room instead? Just for today?”

Marianne, still wide-eyed, nodded, “Okay, I’ll pick up some breakfast and bring it over. What do you like? I’m afraid I might get the wrong things.”

Hilda just smiled, “you wont, I’m so hungry I’ll eat anything.”

“But-” Marianne went to protest, but Hilda was already walking off towards her room.

“Thanks so much, you’re so sweet,” she yelled over her shoulder.

Marianne, for her part, gave a deep sigh and headed towards the kitchens to agonise over what Hilda might like.

The part of Marianne that thought everything she touched would only cause harm was battling with her want to help Hilda. 

Because Hilda always helped her. Even though she detested work and Marianne always seemed to make more of it. Hilda always helped. 

And Hilda was helping again, just to see her. 

Admittedly Marianne felt more than a little guilt over not having responded to Hilda’s letters, particularly now that she’d come all this way to see her. 

Hilda was so nice. 

Marianne didn’t deserve her. She’d only bring bad things her way. But she could at least bring her breakfast too. 

The servants who bustled about the kitchen knew her and her defects well enough to not bother attempting to talk to her. 

There was always a plate ready for her. And she’d mutter her thanks into the air and take it, head bowed the whole time. So needless to say it raised a few eyebrows when she opened the larder and carefully grabbed a few pieces of fruit and a couple of breakfast pastries, making sure she wore gloves and didn’t touch anything that she wasn’t taking. 

During her short search, a second plate had appeared on the tray next to hers. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly into the kitchen, as she always did, depositing the extra food on the tray and picking it up. 

She made sure to be careful on her walk to Hilda’s room, less for the sake of her breakfast and more for Hilda’s. 

She hesitated outside the door, not quite sure what to say. It wasn’t like she could knock, not without spilling the contents of her tray. “Uh, Hilda…” she started uncertainly.

The door swung inward before she could muster her voice louder.

“Oh, yum, looks good,” Hilda said, giving Marianne a wide smile as she scooped her hair up into a the first of her pigtails. 

She hadn’t unpacked yet, but somehow Hilda had already managed to make a mess. Make up and clothes strewn across the floor, her mud covered shoes from earlier having been relegated to the corner of the room.

Marianne walked to the desk and put the tray down on it, doing her best to navigate the floor. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I grabbed a little of everything.”

Hilda looks to her for a moment, tying up the second half of her hair, “you didn’t have to go to all that trouble for me.” She says, her voice not pitched quite so high as when she’s getting people to do things for her, “but thank you, you’re very nice.”

“I’m not-” She started but Hilda cut her off.

“Don’t argue, just take the compliment.”

Hilda reached past her to pick up the tray, and seemed to stop a moment, glancing around the room with a frown. She let out a small huff before clambering onto her bed and sitting cross legged on it, holding the tray up to balance the food. 

Marianne hesitated even more, her hands finding each other and her fingers twisting together. 

“Come on, don’t make me eat alone,” Hilda said patting a spot on the bed across from her.

Marianne’s grip tightened as she looked to Hilda under her fringe, trying to figure how best to explain that touching her food might make Hilda sick but sitting on her bed, where Hilda had to sleep each night, would not doubt bring something worse. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said eventually, chewing on her bottom lip. 

“Marianne,” Hilda sighed, putting her cutlery back down despite not having touched any of her food, “I come all this way and you wont even sit near me. Do I still smell like stable or something?” She asked, aghast as she took part of her hair and smelled it. 

Hilda had always wielded both guilt and affection better than any axe, and Marianne had a healthy dose of both for her. “No, you smell fine. I just-” 

She didn’t know how to continue. She enjoyed Hilda’s company as much as she didn’t deserve it. She half wanted to tell her everything so that she’d understand, so that she’d leave. But Marianne was also selfish, she’d apologised to the Goddess many times for it, and she didn’t want Hilda to leave. 

“Please,” Hilda said quietly, a gentle nod of her head towards the spot on the bed opposite her. 

Marianne conceded, making sure to sit only on the very edge, minimising the damage she’d do. She took her plate and at slowly, looking at the room instead of Hilda. 

Hilda didn’t seem to take offence at this and had already launched into an update on how the rest of the Golden Deer were doing. 

Everyone seemed well and she was glad for it. Despite the distance she’d tried to keep, they were her friends and Marianne wanted them to be happy.

“Oh,” Hilda sat up straighter suddenly, jostling the tray on the bed, “they sent gifts for you.”

Taking a large gulp of tea, Hilda hopped off the edge of the bed and began going through her luggage, further littering the floor.

Marianne just sat there for a moment, unsure how to react. Hilda’s visit had been a surprise, one she relished and despised herself for doing so. They should all just forget about her, she thought they had, except for Hilda.

“This is from Claude,” Hilda said pulling out a stuffed horse and placing it on the bed beside Marianne. 

Despite herself, Marianne smiled as she picked it up, holding the horse up and looking it in the face. It was very cute and a similar blue to the robes she’d always worn in combat. 

A nice gesture that she didn’t deserve. 

“Lorenz said you liked this one,” Hilda placed the unmistakable tin of Marianne’s favourite lavender tea beside her, “and he thought you might enjoy these too.” Three smaller tins were added to the pile. 

Marianne placed the stuffed animal beside her, picking up the tins one by one and smelling them. Lorenz always did have good taste in tea. Each one she was more excited to try than the last. 

Hilda pulled out a bundle of clothes and started unwrapping them to reveal a large jar of sweets, “and these are from Lysithea, who spared no amount of threats in telling me not to eat them on the way.”

They looked lovely and knowing Lysithea they were probably incredibly sweet. She almost felt guilty as she took the jar from Hilda and opened it to try one. 

It was very sweet, but also very very nice. She held the jar out to Hilda who quickly popped one in her mouth before giving one of her more adorable squeaks of glee. 

“Oh that was so worth the wait,” Hilda said, shoving her things unceremoniously back into her suitcase.

Marianne thought she might cry.

She kept her gaze downcast as she resealed the jar. 

She didn’t deserve this.

“They missed you too, you know?” Hilda said gently.

“Thank you, Hilda,” Marianne toyed with the top of the jar to avoid looking at Hilda, “thank the others for me too please. You’re all so nice.”

Marianne swallowed a lump in her throat. After all she’d done to break contact with them, they should have just forgotten her, it would’ve been for the best. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have ever gone to the academy at all. Hilda had seemed so hurt last night. Had she hurt the other’s just as badly?

Even her attempting to protect them caused them suffering apparently. 

A hand fell on top of hers, gently prying the jar from her fingers and placing it on the floor. 

“I’ll write them,” Hilda said from where she was kneeling on the floor, her fingers slowly closing over Marianne’s palm, “but I’d like it if you’d help me. They’d like it too.”

The next breath Marianne drew in was shuddering, “I shouldn’t…” she hesitated. 

Maybe she should.

She doing her best to make sure nothing bad happened to them because of her, but if Hilda was anything to go by, her absence was doing just as much damage.

“You don’t have to touch the letter if you’re worried, just tell me what you want to say and I’ll write it.” The promise was accompanied by the gentlest squeeze of her hand. 

“I’m not sure what I should even say.”

She should pull her hand from Hilda’s, but as gentle as Hilda’s grip was, it was still strong. And Marianne didn’t want to let go. 

“That’s okay,” Hilda said, voice still softer than usual, “it’s a letter, we can make drafts. We can take all the time you want.”

She could protest, maybe this time she could cut them off for good instead of making things worse for them. But Hilda had a way of coaxing her out of her shell. For all the horrible things Marianne brought upon those around her, Hilda seemed to bring as much good, so maybe it would balance out. 

Marianne tilted her head up ever so slightly. Hilda was still on the floor in front of her, pigtails askew as her head rested on an angle waiting patiently for Marianne’s response. She’d reapplied her makeup from this morning and her perfume as well, the same one she’d sometimes wear at the Monastery.

Hilda who looked like that usually, had been traipsing around a stable with hay in her hair this morning. For Marianne of all people. 

Hilda would be better off staying away, but she seemed so determined not to.

She’d always had a way of making people do whatever she wanted. She’d never done that to Marianne. Never. 

And yet Marianne knew she would do anything Hilda asked of her.

“Okay,” Marianne nodded ever so slightly, “I’ll do my best.”

Hilda’s smile grew and she gave Marianne’s hand another squeeze before releasing it. “Great, we can start tonight after I get through the rest of my work, yeah?”

Despite the dread settling in her stomach, Marianne nodded again.

Anything. 

She’d do anything.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes sorry this took so long, Marianne is a taxing character to write. Speaking of, second part of this chapter is basically just marianne being sad, and it's not plot critical so like, skip it if u dont wanna read the downer stuff

Marianne had always had a way of making Hilda work harder but even that couldn’t quite make up for incompetence.

She’d done stable duty more times than she could count at the monastery. She’d also palmed it off twice as many, as long as Marianne wasn’t the one she was working with. 

But that was an hour or so of work, not a days worth of horse care for so many horses. 

Marianne helped of course. But Marianne had never been the best at helping, no matter how good her intentions. 

Hilda didn’t mind. She just wished Marianne would stop apologising to her.

Still, the day left her smelling of a particularly foul mixture of sweat and horse that she had been waiting all day to wash off. 

Hilda took long baths at the best of time, but right now it seemed no matter how hard she scrubbed there was still dirt. 

The water went cold before she left it, still not near clean enough. 

She’d told Marianne she’d have dinner with her and she might’ve felt bad making her wait if the grime wasn’t in part due to Marianne. 

She still felt a little guilty anyway. 

It was rather late when she knocked on Marianne’s door, dinner tray in hand. 

She couldn’t tell if Marianne was tired or not, she always seemed at least a little tired. But if she was she didn’t complain. 

Hilda was tired, but she had told Marianne she’d help he write a letter, so she supposed that was what she was going to do. 

“Right,” she said, taking a seat at Marianne’s writing desk, having taken a quick trip to her room to gather all her things, “let’s get to it.”

“Are you sure Hilda? You’re not too tired?” Marianne hovered over her shoulder but kept her distance. She always did.

“Absolutely,” Hilda’s pep was interrupted by a small yawn, but she shook her head like she could get rid of the tiredness, “Promise.”

Marianne was wringing her hands together again and Hilda pretended not to notice, “are you sure they even want to hear from me?”

Hilda picked out an ink for her quill, light blue seemed fitting for Marianne. “They do, they’re your friends.”

“I’m not even sure what to say,” Marianne’s voice had somehow gotten even smaller.

Hilda looked over her shoulder and reached out to place a hand on Marianne’s arm, withdrawing it quickly when she tensed further. “That’s okay, I’ll help.” She attempted to duck her head forward and into Marianne’s downcast gaze, “We’ll start with Claude and Raph, yeah, then work our way up to Lysithea and Leonie.”

Marianne seemed to relent some when Hilda’s face came into view and she gave a small nod, putting her chin back up. 

“Great,” Hilda turned back to the parchment, writing Claude’s name at the top in the fanciest cursive she could. After a quick greeting from herself she looked up to Marianne. “Right, your turn, how do you wanna say hi?”

The edges of Marianne’s lips pulled down ever so slightly. “I suppose I should start with an apology.”

“No,” Hilda shook her head, “absolutely not. Claude isn’t upset and he doesn’t need an apology. He understands.”

“But-”

Hilda cut her off, “if you want to apologise you’re going to have to send you own letter or write on this one. Because I will not be an accessory to your self deprecation.” She held the quill up to Marianne for a moment.

Marianne did not take it, she just stood there for a few moments before giving a small sigh, “I’d like to thank him for the gift.”

“Oh, now that I can work with,” Hilda smile at her before continuing their letter.

Marianne says thank you for the gift. And she’s not just saying that, you should have seen her face when I gave it to her, absolutely adorable. 

“Hilda.” Marianne objected, flushing a colour not entirely dissimilar to Hilda’s hair. 

“What? I’m just telling the truth.” Hilda looked back and pointed a finger at Marianne, drawing a circle in the air around her face, “adorable.”

If anything Marianne’s blush grew darker. 

“So, what else?” Hilda asked, quill poised above parchment. 

“I- I’m not sure.”

Hilda nodded slowly, “Okay, well, you miss him, right?”

“Of course.”

She says she misses you. I’ve been filling her in on your recent schemes, but she has no real schemes of her own to report (yet). I’ll do my best to convince her to come to the next Round Table but I can feel her worrying behind me as I write this, so we might have to settle for letters for now. 

Marianne audibly relaxes behind her. Oh well, baby steps.

Though, that beard you’re trying to grow is awful reminiscent of Seteth’s and she laughed so much when I described it to her that I doubt she can resist seeing it in person for too much longer.

She drew a small winking face at the end of that paragraph, though that was more for Marianne’s benefit than Claude’s.

“You can’t tell him that,” she said as if on cue. 

Hilda pointed to the badly drawn picture. “It’s a joke, he’ll know it’s a joke.”

Besides it wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten more than a little teasing from Hilda when he’d first started growing it. 

“I don’t want to upset him, Hilda, I didn’t mean to laugh, it was just how you described it.” Marianne does not seem to relax. Though she does seem to be suppressing a small smile at the memory. 

“Fine, fine,” Hilda concedes, “it’s your letter too.”

She’s also very sorry for laughing about your beard, apparently I’m just too funny. 

And Marianne seems to settle some.

Hilda keeps writing, not wanting to push Marianne. Telling Claude about her journey here and all the work she’d been doing. 

Marianne seems content to let her use her writing desk for now, though she doesn’t add anything else. 

Eventually she signs off the letter with both of their names, dotting the i’s with hearts. 

When she looks back to Marianne she expects to see her contented, instead she looks just as unhappy as ever. 

“What’s wrong?”

Marianne’s head falls ever further and Hilda can’t help but feel some level of frustration, they’d been doing so well. “Are you sure?”

It’s late and Hilda is tired, but it clicks immediately anyway. “That they want to talk to you?”

Marianne nods silently. 

Hilda gives a rather drawn out sigh but it’s not near as exaggerated as it sounds. “Can I ask you something, Marianne?”

“Of course,” Marianne seems confident in that at least, “I’ll answer if I can.”

“Do you want me here? Do you want to talk to me?”

Marianne sunk down on to the bed behind her, folding her hands in her lap. 

Hilda felt her stomach drop.

Not the answer she’d been hoping for.

“It’s complicated,” Marianne said slowly. 

Hilda busied herself with packing up her inkwells and quill so Marianne wouldn’t see the tears forming in her eyes. 

“I like talking to you, Hilda. I want to but-” Marianne cut herself off along with the slow rise of Hilda’s hopes. Hilda heard Marianne draw in a breath behind her before she continued. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I want you here, but I shouldn’t. It’s selfish.”

Hilda’s hands still over her stationary and she took a moment to steady herself, to force the tears to retreat from her eyes. Eventually she turned back to Marianne, who was still just staring at her own hands in her lap. 

“You know, yesterday when I first got here, I thought maybe you didn’t. That you were ignoring all my letters because you didn’t want to talk to me.” Hilda was more than capable of feigning injury or weakness to get people to do things for her, but this was a different kind of vulnerability. A kind she didn’t like. ‘

“I’m so-” Marianne started but Hilda cut her off again.

“Don’t.” She shook her head slowly. “You don’t need to keep apologising. I just want you to know that everyone feels like that sometimes. Even me.” Hilda gave her a small smile, when Marianne finally looked up at her. “You can never really know if someone wants to talk to you, all you can do is let them know what you want.”

“Hilda,” Marianne said softly, looking like she was about to say something else, another apology perhaps? But she closed her mouth and stood, walking over to Hilda, for a moment it looked like she was going to hug her.

But Marianne reached down beside her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a stack of several dozen letters. 

“You kept them?” Hilda asked, recognising her own hand and inks. 

Marianne’s eyes met hers for a moment and just a quickly moved away. But then slowly, bit by bit, she looked back to Hilda before speaking, “I told you, they made me happy.” Her eyes moved away again and she forced them back, “talking to you, having you here, it makes me happy.”

“Me too,” Hilda stopped, correcting herself, this time she was the one to break eye contact if only so she could think for a moment. “But for talking to you, you know?”

Hilda wasn’t quite sure she’d ever seen Marianne smile like this. Eyes lit up and unabashed, not hidden behind her hair for once. Even when she’d been laughing in the stables there had been an edge of discomfort to it. But not now. 

Hilda was staring, she didn’t mean to but she was. She did her best to look away before Marianne noticed and became self conscious or something equally as ridiculous. 

“But Marianne?”

“Hmm?” Came the smallest hum of acknowledgement.

“If I ever ask you if you like me again and you reply with ‘it’s complicated’-”

Well Hilda didn’t quite know what she would do. Threats were not ideal here. Cry is what she probably would do but she couldn’t say that.

Regardless, Marianne seemed to receive the message. “Okay, I promise.”

Marianne had always been particularly susceptible to guilt. 

Hilda rarely weaponised it against her. 

Marianne had seen her use it on others more times than she could could. Claude, the professor, nearly everyone else at the Monastery. But she near never used it against Marianne. 

Come to think of it, she rarely used any of her tactics against Marianne. 

And yet, Marianne felt guilty none-the-less. Because Hilda was always helping her even though she so clearly detested work. 

And Hilda had left the brother she adored and her friends in the capital for this. 

And Hilda was writing letters on behalf of her. 

She didn’t deserve any of it. 

Marianne prayed every night. 

Told the Goddess of her sins and her misgivings and apologised for her faults.

How useless she was.

How she was a burden on everyone.

How she could never pay anyone’s kindness back. 

And now, how much hurt she’d caused Hilda. How much stress and anguish and burden Hilda had taken on because of her. 

Marianne never prayed for things. She simply accounted for all her failures and asked forgiveness for them, one by one. 

But tonight she prayed for something. But not for her, for Hilda. 

For Hilda to be happy.

For Hilda to be healthy. 

For Hilda to find something better to spend her time on. 

Marianne was well accustomed to her own rituals, they rarely upset her anymore. 

Yet, Tears fell from her eyes tonight as she begged the goddess to spare Hilda. Begged that Hilda not be punished for Marianne’s lack of will to push her away. The fault was Marianne’s and she should suffer the consequences. 

Hilda was only trying to be nice, she didn’t deserve whatever would befall her. 

But what would be worse consequences for Marianne than that? Than Hilda suffering even more at Marianne’s hand. 

Still she had to try. 

So she begged, and apologised. The Goddess was merciful and Hilda was good. So maybe, just maybe, the Goddess could intervene on her behalf if not Marianne’s. 

Marianne had never asked anything of the Goddess before. She’d never deserved to. She still didn’t deserve to. 

But she had to try. 


End file.
